The Crown Prince's Most Disrespectful Attendant

Ch4: Payment First, Respect Never

The cloaked figure jerked forward the moment Albert's hand clamped down on his shoulder.

"Let go of me!"

The stranger twisted sharply, trying to wrench free, but Albert's grip only tightened, the fabric bunching in his fist as though the cloak itself had been sentenced.

Albert smiled without warmth. "No."

The figure struggled harder, boots scraping against the wooden floor. "I said let go!"

"And I said no."

With one sharp tug, Albert spun the stranger around. The movement was quick enough to steal his balance, and the cloaked figure stumbled back a step, nearly crashing into a broken shelf before catching himself. 

Now they stood face to face, or rather, Albert stood, and the stranger bristled.

Albert pointed slowly around the shop. "Look."

The figure frowned.

"No, really," Albert said, his voice going dangerously calm. "Use your eyes."

The stranger finally glanced around. 

Broken jars lay scattered near the wall. Herbs were crushed beneath muddy footprints. Two shelves leaned like drunkards after a festival. Fruit rolled lazily across the floor, bruised and abandoned. The front crate had split down the middle, and Albert's favorite pen was bent in half.

The stranger looked back at him with complete indifference. "And?"

Albert blinked once. Then twice. Somewhere deep inside him, patience packed its bags and left.

"And?" he repeated softly, stepping closer. 

"Because of you, five idiots walked in here and treated my shop like a battlefield." He jabbed a finger toward the broken counter. "That crack was not there this morning." Toward the fallen fruit. "Those oranges had dreams." Toward the bent pen. "And that pen was loyal."

The stranger only stared. Albert drew in a breath.

"You think you can walk in here, hide in my storeroom, destroy my day, and then leave like a king?" A pause. "Pay."

The figure stiffened, then with one final wrench tore himself free of Albert's grip and stumbled backward. 

At once he straightened, gathering what little dignity remained around him like another cloak, and reached inside his robes to produce a polished badge. Silver, elegant and stamped with the crest of the royal lion.

He lifted it with pride. "I am from the palace."

Albert looked at the badge. Then at the stranger. Then back at the badge.

"And so?"

The room went silent. Even the bell above the door seemed offended.

The stranger's hand froze midair. "What?"

Albert folded his arms. "You waved a piece of metal at me," he said. "Was something else supposed to happen?"

"This crest signifies royalty."

Albert nodded seriously. "Tragic."

"You should be kneeling."

Albert was quiet for one second. Then he laughed. 

He threw his head back and laughed like a man who'd finally been handed the funniest joke in town.

The stranger's face darkened beneath the hood.

Albert wiped the corner of one eye. "Wait," he said between breaths. "Let me understand." He pointed at the badge. "If you show me that, will it pay for my broken shop?"

The stranger said nothing.

"Will it buy me a new shelf?"

Silence.

"A new crate?"

The figure's jaw tightened.

"A new pen?"

Still nothing.

Albert snapped his fingers. "Then what exactly is it doing here?"

The stranger looked genuinely shaken now, as though the world had betrayed him by refusing to behave properly. "You do not fear the royal family?"

Albert shrugged. "They don't pay my bills." He gestured around the store. "They don't stock my shelves." Then he pointed at himself. "And unless one of them plans to personally sweep this floor, I fail to see why I should care."

The stranger opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. No words came.

Albert nodded sympathetically. "It's hard when reality arrives unexpectedly."

The figure froze..

But then the figure suddenly turned toward the door.

Albert's eyes narrowed. "Absolutely not."

The stranger lunged. Albert intercepted him by the hood, yanking him backward so sharply the figure let out a startled noise that sounded deeply girlish.

"You're paying first."

"Unhand me!"

"No."

"Do you know what crime this is?"

Albert patted him down like a professional. "Not yet, but I'm discovering possibilities."

The stranger squirmed furiously, trying to twist free while preserving whatever remained of his dignity. It was not going well. Albert's hand found a coin pouch hidden inside the cloak.

"Ah."

"That is theft!"

Albert weighed the pouch in his palm. "It is compensation." He shook it beside his ear. Coins clinked. "Hm. Not much."

The stranger looked outraged. "That is more money than you make in months!"

Albert tucked the pouch away. "Then you should be embarrassed it still isn't enough."

He marched the figure to the front door by the shoulder. The stranger dug in his heels. Albert dragged him anyway.

"You cannot treat me this way!"

"I can," Albert said. "Observe."

He flung the door open, gave the stranger one firm shove, and sent him stumbling into the street. 

Then he pointed a warning finger.

"If you come back without more money, bring carpenters."

The figure spun around furiously. "You insolent—"

The door slammed in his face. The bell jingled once. Then silence.

Outside, the cloaked stranger stood motionless in the middle of the road, his mind struggling to understand what had just happened.

He had been insulted, robbed, dragged and literally thrown out by a merchant.

A passing woman glanced at him, then continued walking. A child laughed somewhere nearby. The stranger slowly touched the closed door in front of him as if confirming it was real.

"Impossible."

"Your Highness!"

He turned sharply. A squad of armored knights hurried down the road, dust kicking up behind them. At their front strode a stern man in polished armor, his expression caught somewhere between panic and relief. The captain stopped and bowed deeply.

"Your Highness, thank the heavens. We finally found you."

The cloaked figure frowned and glanced once at the shop door.

The captain straightened, noticing the look. "Is something wrong?"

A pause. The stranger slowly removed the hood. Brown hair fell free, slightly disheveled from being manhandled. Sharp blue eyes gleamed with irritation and something far more dangerous.

Interest.

The Crown Prince smirked.

"Nothing at all."