《Monarch of Kingdoms》


 I Got Disqualified From the Grand Tournament Because My Stupid Horse Wanted an Apple During My Joust

    If Arthur Pentaghast, prince and renowned handsome knight of Chancealot Kingdom in the Western Isles, could swing a longsword at his current moment, he would use it to chop off the head of his stupid horse.


    Once again, his white stallion¡¯s antics had caused a blunder that saw him lose face before his father. And this time it was worse, in front of hundreds of the general public during his jousting match with that prideful Sir. Smithers. Oh, the shame!


    ¡°Chifton, that stupid horse!¡± he grumbled and gritted his teeth, thinking of all the tasty recipes the palace chefs could make out of horse meat.


    His mind stewed over his match disqualification as he whiled away the time in the White Palace Dungeons.  He was stuck in one of the high-class cells on the dungeon¡¯s top floor, of course. So high-class, he had a bed with pillows and blankets, a fruit platter on a side table, a reading chair and a two-tier bookshelf holding a back catalog of his favorite reading materials. Like he could survive on cheese, crackers, and grapes alone.


    He sat seething in the padded red reading chair; a portrait of a prince, brooding over his misfortune in lock-up. If an artist were to paint Arthur¡¯s picture, they would likely contain the features list as follows. A man of regal airs, seated with an imposing posture of crossed long legs in black and gold trimmed trousers tucked into black boots. Yet, downplaying his position by wearing a simple (still posh looking) navy and silver lined tunic held together by a belt.


    Silky, short blond (not hacked-cut) hair combed off his squarish and well-balanced face, which was clean and almost blemish-free. A pair of narrow blue eyes, a shapely nose, and a cocky pair of lips to send women¡¯s hearts soaring with, ¡®Give me!¡¯ His most charming features, so most people had said. Either way, he was a handsome enough picture of a man to outshine most others in the palace. Although, being locked up in a cell right now wasn¡¯t doing wonders for his hair¡¯s luster.


    ¡°Prison lock-up is harsh.¡± He grumbled complaints to himself.


    Soon his mind was replaying the unsavory moment of his match. He had been in perfect form, with the right lean and charge to carry the long lance at the optimal angle for Sir. Smither¡¯s breastplate.


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    Arthur (in full metal steel armor) and Chifton (in his steel barding) were racing forward with a surefire blow; feeling fired up by the crowd¡¯s ecstatic cheers. Until his direction had unexpectedly changed for the stadium¡¯s open exit. The reason? Chifton had caught a whiff of a kid¡¯s candy apple and made a go for it.


    Their charge went right out the stadium exits with leaps and bounds: kicking up mad dust and bowling patrons aside. They rushed blindly for the smell¡¯s source on the side of the marketplace road. He had been in a tight position, so unable to rein in the horse. Given that, one arm was balancing an oversize iron lance at twice their length. All he could do was scream out his apology and curse his horse with many foul threats to make the beast stop.


    Chagrin had contorted his expression when Chifton skidded to a halt before a booth selling candy apples and peanuts.


    Arthur¡¯s lance had jousted the bag attached to the poor man, who had bought a packet of the nuts at the stand. The force of the lance had sent the man flying into the air as he had turned to leave. All he could do at that moment was sit on his horse and stare at the dirt road where the man had landed; nuts strewn around him. He was glad his face had been behind his helmet to mask his horrified expression.


    Eventually, he was able to pull back his schlong lance, so it wasn¡¯t a public health hazard. Many commoners had crowded around him, Chifton and the knocked over man with his butt in the air.


    Realizing he needed to be a good and well-meaning knight, he shuffled off the horse to check on the man¡¯s condition. Luckily, the man had only suffered a few grazes. Unluckily, for Arthur, he was naturally roped into owing him a favor.


    ¡°Stupid Chifton.¡± He gritted his teeth and grumbled again.


    Keys rattling against his cell door pulled his attention back to his current situation.


    ¡°Right. His Majesty said to let you out now.¡± A guard yawned as he opened the door wide. ¡°He would like to see you in the throne room.¡±


    Arthur thanked the guard in full metal armor, bearing the palace¡¯s white lily crest on his breastplate, and stepped out of the opened iron door.


    The guard¡¯s boots scuffed the ground as he dragged himself back to his guard post. Whilst Arthur climbed the dungeon stairs to the palace grounds.

 I Got Jousted When All I Wanted Was a Bag of Peanuts

    San groaned as he felt his head swimming. His memory was fuzzy, but he remembered buying a bag of peanuts at a stand, turning around, and seeing the pointy end of a lance rushing toward him.


    In an abrupt moment, the dirt road was facing him and peanut shells were strewn on either side of his head. It was clear that he had been forcefully kicked to the road. But all was forgiven when, through the foggy haze, he caught a glorious and wondrous sight of a sparkly knight in shining armor. Literally. This knight helped him to his feet. And that was as much as he remembered because it seemed he had passed out.


    He sat up and glanced at his surroundings, he was in a room and on a bed, which was really comfy. It seemed he had had the best rest in days, for his body felt less stiff and more refreshed.


    Where was he? Wherever he was, he hoped he had already paid the bill.


    "Oh, good, you''re awake."


    San blinked at the sight of an old woman who entered, dressed in a long layered dress with a White Lily brooch at the front to hold all her garments together. She carried some vials and cloth in her hands. He guessed she was a physician.


    He yelped when she yanked off his bed sheet to examine his body.


    "You have sturdy legs, but aren''t you skinny for a man?" She frowned as she observed his form in a traveler''s brown tunic and pants.


    San was too perplexed to move and if he could, it was impolite to interrupt a professional.


    "Well, aside from cuts and your shoulder dislocation, no other damage." She nodded and helped him sit up.


    Indeed, San felt his shoulder throbbing with a nasty ache.


    The physician paused. "If I didn''t examine your lowers, I would''ve mistaken you for a flat-chested woman and cursed your shame of pretending to be a man."


    San frowned. He obviously knew he was a man. But the physician clinically carried on her prognosis of him.


    "Yes, fair skin, soft brown hair, and gentle features to beguile." She cackled. "Luckily, we don''t have a princess in this palace; otherwise you''d be burned on a stake."


    The physician''s cackle changed to a devious smirk. "But if you buy this potion, not only will it cure everything. It can also make you invisible to the wanton eye."


    San''s frown eased, but he was still befuddled by the professional''s observation of him.


    "What is a wanton eye?" He innocently asked and gulped when the woman dumped herself next to him and got up close to his face.


    "Pretty green eyes. Round like gems. Button nose and full lips. Yes. Yes. Perfect for it."


    He gulped, feeling rather uncomfortable. "For what?"


    "This!" She held a small vial of dirty-looking liquid in it. "This potion, as I''ve said before, can..."


    "Get you a one-way ticket to the dungeons," a new voice said from the opened door.


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    "Crap." The physician hissed beneath her breath and got off the bed to face the intruder.


    She bowed to the handsome man who was leaning on the door frame with his arms folded across his chest, his austerity was keenly noticeable.


    "Your, highness." She awkwardly laughed off her fears. "I was checking the patient."


    "And trying to sell him your dishwater?" Arthur''s eyes narrowed, as he looked down on the old woman.


    She laughed again, more nervously.


    "Is he okay?


    "Yes, your highness."


    "Then?"


    The old woman got the hint and hastily left the room.


    San sighed with relief.


    Arthur''s expression eased. Thank goodness, he didn''t have to worry about liability compensation as well. With this, his butt was saved from going further down a rabbit hole of save-face.


    They both stared silently at each other for a while. San took in Arthur''s clean and neatly combed blond hair, cool blue eyes and fit body in his tunic and trousers. He looked regal. His mind ticked for a while longer before he finally realized who Arthur was.


    "Oh." He stumbled off the bed to get down on his knees, but ended up rolling on the floor to lie flat before Arthur''s boots.


    Arthur''s brows lifted with a pleasant bemusement. He helped San stand up.


    "So." He looked San up and down. "You seem healthy enough."


    "Um, yes, er, your highness?" San scratched his head with his good hand. Obviously, his damaged shoulder, which was held up in a sling, was a no-go.


    Arthur frowned, wondering if the man was indeed a man, since he was pretty enough to be a woman. But that was not a good thought to have in his head. If San was parading as a man, then he was one. Nothing more to think about.


    "You can go then."


    San politely thanked him and went to grab his bag that was on the bedside chair, but paused when he held it up. The canvas satchel was unable to be carried like one. The strap had been torn right off, so there was a frayed hole in the bag''s fabric.


    Arthur coughed his apology behind his hand.


    "Well, I''ll be off then." San disregarded the bag''s sad state, as he tied the dangling strap around it to keep it together. He paused before Arthur with a sheepish look, "Um, well, I don''t owe anything?"


    Arthur frowned. "If you don''t leave in two minutes, you will."


    "Right!" San politely passed him and hastily left to make his way out of wherever he was.

 A Wise Capital Funding Serenade

    "There you are!" Another man rushed up to Arthur when he saw him loitering about one of the servants'' rooms. "Why, in blinken heavens, are you in this part of the castle?"


    The other man''s eyes narrowed. "Oi. You''re not thinking about shirking your duties and trying to hide from your father."


    Arthur awkwardly laughed. "Of course not, Galahad. Because that would earn me one of your lectures about superficial royalty who will one day face the revolution of the suppressed, hardworking commoner and the scheming Man."


    He slapped the broad back of his best friend.


    Galahad had, indeed, the charm of an old man at the start of his youth. Only just turning twenty, the same age as Arthur, he was already talking like someone at the end of their age group.


    "Honestly, Arthur. Do you not see the seeding of peoples'' suppression arising from the conditions of these quarters?" Galahad scolded Arthur for something else.


    He was referring to the mold on the drapes and dirt patches on the stone floor, which could obviously be cleaned after the royal quarters were looking sparkly. But the royal quarters always needed to look sparkly, so the lower-class areas were neglected most of the time.


    Arthur stared about the area, appreciating his good friend''s well-meaning comments with vague understanding. Galahad groaned.


    "Fine! Hurry up and follow me to the Great Hall." He added.


    Arthur followed his friend out of the servant''s quarters. Of course, seeing the two handsome royals in the dirtiest part of the castle made the passing maids squeal, panic and snap to bows before them.


    "Oh, Sir. Galahad, thank you for your help with the door the other day." A comely woman in a servant''s dress stopped Galahad in his tracks.


    Arthur smirked and folded his arms as he watched his good friend deal with the attention. The man was indeed fair looking in a brown tunic, trousers, and boots; fine black hair, cropped short and with a soft fringe crossing over his forehead, round blue eyes, and a lean and toned body.


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    He wasn''t the greatest with a sword, but he was fast and agile with a bow and daggers. Because of this, he complimented him in battle. He also wasn''t the greatest at noticing suggestive hints from women, either.


    "Well, if we had royalty that would distribute funds better for the upkeep of the castle, especially the fortification of the battlements..." As Galahad continued to serenade the girl with his lectures on the wise use of capital funding, Arthur made his escape.


    He power-walked up a flight of winding stone stairs and entered the main castle corridors. And he was blocked.


    "Brat. Time in the cells didn''t make you pronto."


    Noel Pentaghast stomped his way towards him. His armored boots made clanking noises that rebounded down the corridor.


    The eldest half brother by ten years. He was a formidable bear of a man with a short blond beard, shaved head, and bushy brows set over steely blue eyes. His square jaw was rarely lifted with a smile.


    An unmissable beefy, muscly, large body and especially large hands that carried threats of hand-smash-head-to-pulp strength. His impression of authority was more so, with the royal crest on his red tunic over a brown shirt, pants and  black boots. One arm was covered in steel plate armor of rerebrace and vambrace, with the White Lily emblem on the couters at his elbow.


    His gauntlet hands rested on the pommel of his sheathed sword at his hip when he stood before his younger brother.


    Arthur awkwardly greeted him.


    "Don''t hide, whelp." His deep voice gave some grit to his warning.


    Arthur gulped and nodded. "Let me get changed first."


    Noel let Arthur scurry away like a little mouse. His lips betrayed a slight grin and was deadpan again before others could see. He followed Arthur to make sure he wasn''t going to escape.

 I Got Kicked Out of White Palace Because My Horse Wanted an Apple During My Jousting Match

    White Palace''s soldiers and servants bowed or snapped to attention with greetings as Arthur and Noel climbed the curved stairs to the corridors that connected to the Royal Sleeping Quarters and the Great Hall.


    They walked the corridor and up another flight of stairs to Arthur''s room nearby.


    Arthur groaned when his other brother, Ren, who was also ten years his elder but younger than Noel, was in his room laying out his clothes to wear for the occasion on his four-poster bed.


    "Ren. You''re not a manservant." Arthur screwed up his face.


    "If you were to listen to me, you would have one by now." Ren huffed and continued fussing over the outfits for Arthur to wear before their father.


    If Noel was a bearish-looking warrior, Ren was a bean pole with gentle and tanned skin, softer appealing features of green eyes, slender nose, and lips. His short brown hair was neatly combed back. He preferred to wear a modest navy coat and tunic over dark trousers and boots. His sheathed daggers at his belt were hints at the man being a formidable fighter.


    Noel and Ren were his brothers from different mothers. Two in fact. Noel''s mother was the Duchess of Cobwall, who died when enemies from the North invaded the area. Ren had no blood relation to either of them, actually. He was the son of a noble who had sacrificed his life to save Uthur''s when they were gathering supporters for his seat on the throne. Uthur had adopted Ren after both his parents had perished. Both of his brothers surprisingly worked well together, which aided court matters greatly.


    Arthur rolled his eyes at Ren''s fussing over his body, as he helped undress and redress into a fresh regal tunic, dark trousers, and boots. His left arm was covered in steel plate armor, bearing the White Lily family emblem.


    "It will have to do. We can''t keep our father waiting." Ren sighed.


    The three of them returned to the Great Hall''s double-door entrance.


    Arthur approached the doors and took in a deep breath.


    The sentry guards nodded and opened the way into the hall.


    The brothers made their way down the hall to the throne upon the stage at the end, where they stood and waited patiently for their father to greet them.


    "Arthur." Uthur''s voice was neither welcoming nor condemning.


    It was this tone that made Arthur the most nervous around the man.


    People had said that Arthur was a younger version of Uthur, even with the same passion and cockiness. Over the years, Uthur''s fearlessness had waned as his age did. His short blond hair was grayer, and many wrinkles creased his forehead and cheeks, but he was still appealing for his age. He wore navy-silver-lined robes bearing the Pentaghast house emblem on the clasp at his chest. The lightweight gold king''s crown sat snugly on his head.


    "So, have you cooled down now?" Uthur soberly asked.


    "Define cooled down. Ouch!" Arthur cursed at the discreet pinch Ren gave his side; his usual hint to rein in his brashness.


    Uthur sighed and dismissed his counselors except for his trusted advisor. He stepped down to approach his sons.


    "With the jousting match defaulted to Sir. Smithers, you have been eliminated from the Grand Tournament." Uthur reminded Arthur.


    Arthur instantly released his complaints about it all being Chifton''s fault.


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    "He''s just a horse, Arthur." Uthur''s voice betrayed his anger. "At your age, I would expect you to control the beast!"


    Arthur wasn''t backing down. "Chifton isn''t a horse. What horse can speak?!"


    Ren soughed, envisioning sparks flying between Uthur and Arthur''s eyes, as they growled complaints and reasons back and forth.


    Noel groaned.


    "Sires! May we step back for the moment." Ren''s soothing voice of reason calmed the escalation.


    "Of course, Ren. You have a suggestion." Uthur sweetly asked him, which had Arthur hissing and pouting.


    "Well, we certainly can''t place Arthur on display before the court and other knights. He will be utterly and shamelessly roasted. We need a way to..."


    Before Ren could continue his suggestion, Uthur took over with his own.


    "I see, yes, I''m glad we agree. We have to save face here."


    The three brothers exchanged pensive glances.


    It was at this point that the other person in the room entered the conversation.


    "My son has been assigned to retrieve an artifact of great power from the Mistic Mountains. May I suggest Arthur joins him with his own quest."


    Arthur screwed up his face at the notion of Galahad going on a dangerous quest. He could just picture the man having a debate with locals about kingdom tax justifications instead of going all out in a battle.


    "Why?" He blurted.


    The gods of timing would have it, Galahad entered and stood next to Ren. He was throwing dagger-looks at Arthur for having failed in his task to retrieve the dodgy prince.


    "He''s here, so that''s all that matters." Ren patted Galahad''s shoulder.


    Galahad nodded and relaxed. But relaxation was short-lived, and he felt stressed.


    Arthur and Galahad moaned when they realized the task they had to perform to prove their manhood to the masses.


    Arthur had to get an ancient sword (something of an enchanted blade apparently), which was probably some throw-away rusted junk, now important because his never-met uncle had demanded it. Galahad had to get some holey cup. Likely the artifacts came with some substantial power deals or other forms of monetary gain. Why else go on a journey to acquire used goods?


    "I''m not leaving the palace for a sword. Why can''t I get a new one at the blacksmith?" Arthur argued.


    "You''ll get the sword, or I''ll confiscate all your Heroic Knight and His Barbarian Maid reading materials, and make sure the monks never release another edition," Uthur warned him.


    Arthur''s head nearly snapped and exploded at the horrible thought of never holding any of his favorite reading materials ever again.


    "I''ll get the sword," he instantly answered, which appeased Uthur.


    "And deliver it to the sect. You''re not to come back to the palace until your task is done." Uthur set the terms.


    And that was how it was. No amount of arguing from the two youngsters was going to get them out of their duty.