His Royal Highness

PROLOGUE

Prologue

"Mr. And Mrs. Inkwell, A due is a due. It's been a year since you first stepped into our territory. We have given you enough time to pay the necessary fees for your settlement in our land."

I can see in my parents' face the familiar look of desperation,  as the collector passes to them the settlement contract they signed a year ago. We are foreigners on this land. We were originally from Sardona but the harsh environment and tyrant leaders forced us to find a better home for ourselves. My mother and father signed a contract in exchange for us to become a citizen on this country.

"You know what that means, right?" The collector continues, however my father seems to focus on the statement at the bottom of the paper written in bold letters:

Failure to comply on the written agreement shall have the debtor be sentenced to Sorbea Perpetua.

Sorbea Perpetua.

It means the debtor shall serve the state as long as he/she lives. And when I mean to serve the state, it means you'll become a servant of the Royal Palace for the rest of your life.

I can't believe this is happening to my family now. We're new here for god's sake! The contract stated that if we cannot pay the tribute of 50,000 docents then one of us shall serve the monarch in the form of Sorbea Perpetua. It's really absurd since we do not have that kind of money, I mean, how can we earn that amount when we are barely hanging on from our earnings from the crops we plant?

"I'm afraid sir, but we can only offer you a thousand docents. If you'd like we'll pay you in annuities." My father bargained. The collector crosses his arms and looked at my father straight in the eyes.

"The contract clearly states that payment shall be collected after a year. Refusal of Sorbea Perpetua equates to imprisonment or even death so to speak." The collector said in an authoritative manner.

I gulped at the thought of my parents being executed. As I look at my dad's face, I cry at the thought of him working hard at the royal palace. His right eye was mutilated by the army from our previous home because he was accused of joining the rebels and that they tortured him to milk some information but unfortunately he was not any help as they believed he would be. But that isn't the only thing that bothers me right now because my father is becoming old, he's becoming sickly often and being a stubborn man that he is, he doesn't want to rest saying; that he'll be alright which makes him more vulnerable.

"But my husband is too weak to work, maybe I should be the one to work." My mother reasoned out. 

"I'm sorry ma'am but men are the ones needed in the army."

"When will I start?" I said in an impulse, I can clearly hear the sound of my own heartbeat thudding in my ears.

"I'm sorry what?" The collector asked.

"Sorbea Perpetua. I'll be working right?"

"I'm sorry what?" The collector asked."Sorbea Perpetua. I'll be working right?""James!" My mother interrupts. She must've thought that I am joking.

"I'm sorry but kids are not allowed to work."

"I'm turning 18 this week." I said as a matter of fact.

"Oh is that so?" He said, becoming interested with my idea.

"Now where do I sign?"