11.06.26
My Creative Writing
I hope you enjoy my story.
The New Prophet
Festival of The Prophet was a magnificent event to celebrate the day that Monunk the ogre created the cure to heal the Violet Chills, a disease that had riddled the people of Isira Kingdom for decades. Violet chills were a truly horrid disease that would turn your skin into a violet hue and you would get chills for days until finally it took you in a burst of violet light! The festival of the Prophet got its name because after Monunk discovered the cure, he was crowned a prophet, a high rank among the Isira.
Because of all this you would think that a descendant of the great Monunk would love the festival but Fletcher hated the festival and hated the way that the capital city, Charveil turned into a bright display of jars filled with weird colourful powder. Fletcher hated that when he stepped foot outside his little shack of house all he was reminded about was his horrid father, and even though he hated it, he got up out of bed every morning and worked to protect his own father, the person he hated most in the world, as a royal guard.
Today was a morning like no other however because Fletcher had received a mysterious letter from the High Prince Damien to meet at the empire pub which was a dirty tavern in the middle of the slums where Fletch lived. It was odd because Damien was sure to be noticed in an inn that was popular among bandits. When Fletch arrived he was escorted by royal guards in disguise upstairs into a small loft where the High Prince was waiting in a plush leather armchair. He stood when Fletcher and the guards walked in, Fletcher bowed low to the ground.
“Hello Fletcher.” Said Damien as Fletcher rose from his bow.
Hello High Prince Damien.” Fletch replied as the guards left the room closing the door,
“Please none of those formal titles, Damien is fine, Now I have a deal for you about your father, Monunk The Prophet.” Damien said as he poured tea, “Would you like some tea, or coffee?” He asked, Fletcher wondered what kind of deal Damien could possibly want with him about his father.
Fletcher told Damien “Tea would be lovely, but I must ask what kind of deal you would possibly want with me? Monunk is my father but I’ve never even spoken to him.”
“That’s exactly why I chose you Fletcher, you will ask for an audience with him, I will make sure that’s granted, the you will announce to him that you are his son-”
Fletcher cut the Prince off to say “But that’s the thing he already knows that I’m his son, he disowned me when my mother died, left me at an orphanage, and told me never to reach out to him again.” Fletcher said all this in a very sombre tone as he watched Damien’s face drop.
“Oh, well that was not something I had taken into account, we will have to shift our plans a bit, but this should still work.” said Damien with a desperate hope in his eyes.
Fletcher was curious as to what the prince really wanted so he asked,
“What is it that you want with me, I mean you’re the high prince soon to become King, you can have literally anything and yet you seem to need this desperately, like your life depends on it.”
“Thats the thing, My life does depend on it, before every prince or princess becomes a ruler they most complete a grand challenge set by the ruler before them, if they do not complete, they get exiled which in my eyes is basically death!” said the prince with worry in his voice.
“Well what’s your grand challenge?” Asked Fletch.
“To steal your fathers antidote for the violet chills,” Damien replied.
But why would you do that, it’s the one thing he made!” exclaimed Fletcher, “although I suppose he sells it for a very high price, an unfair price some would say.” He wondered out loud. Damien took a sip of his tea and he looked at Fletcher thinking to himself a new crafty plan.
“I think I know how to complete my challenge, you will become his personal guard, follow him wherever he goes, collecting information about the whereabouts of his stock of the cure, then when we know where it is I shall complete a raid of his warehouse where he keeps it during next year’s festival of the prophet when he is most distracted. If you agree I’ll make you a prophet, and grant a wish from me when I become king, although it must be within my power to complete, and that is my deal for you Fletcher” Said Damien with a smug smile.
“That sounds like a good deal to me, Prince,” replied Fletcher.
To Be Continued… (maybe)