More fun
Want to support CHYOA?
Disable your Ad Blocker! Thanks :)

Chapter 2 by Acorn142 Acorn142

Who will you start with?

Prince Duncan

His Royal Highness The Spare.

Oh sure, his real name is HRH, Prince Duncan, Duke of Lancish, but for all of his eighteen years, he has been known as "The Spare."

Everyone knows that the first responsibility of a king is to produce an heir to the throne, and the second responsibility is to sire a spare, just in case something happens to the first. In the case of Duncan's parents, King Malcolm and Queen Caroline, they had a double responsibility for a spare. Their firstborn was Adella, but everyone knows that a woman cannot rule the kingdom unless there is absolutely no other choice, so everyone breathed a sigh of relief when Stewart came along eighteen months later. Still, it would be unseemly to leave the future of the kingdom to the chance possibility of the throne falling to his elder sister. That's why there was a collective sigh of relief a couple of years later, when Duncan was born. With this birth, the crown was established for at least another generation.

But all the excitement Duncan's birth garnered was pretty much the end of any kind of attention about him from that point forward -- at least, in terms of positive attention. Duncan was expected to basically stay in the shadows and not detract from Stewart and his glorious destiny.

It definitely was a weird existence. Growing up with unbelievable wealth and privilege should have been fun, but he always felt he was being held to a different standard than his siblings. Stewart's bedroom chambers were a veritable revolving door of beautiful damsels, eager to get in the good graces of the heir to the throne. When word would get out about some embarrassing affair with a married woman, or if a royal party got a little too boisterous, everyone just seemed to smile, shrug their shoulders, and say something about the young prince "sowing his wild oats, just like his father did at his age."

But when the same thing happened with Duncan, the word on the street was, "Scandalous! Look how he's destroying the reputation of the royal family!" More than once, Duncan was summoned before his father, who scolded him about being so selfish and not thinking about how his actions could reflect negatively on his brother.

And then there was his sister, Adella. She could do no wrong. Beautiful, stately, and glamorous, Adella turned heads everywhere she went. She spent her days being courted by princes and knights, not only from Mirantia, but from throughout the known world. Freed from the burdens of government, it seemed to Duncan that his sister had the best life imaginable. She didn't have to spend her time studying how to govern like Duncan did (even though no one expected him to have to ever wear the crown). Her life was one carefree day after another of horseback riding, tea parties, and leisure.

Whereas Stewart inherited their father’s dark, robust looks, Duncan took after his mother. Fair-haired and slender, he also emulated her sense of humor and mischievousness.

Today is Duncan's eighteenth birthday. When Stewart turned 18, the whole kingdom celebrated the fact that the heir to the throne is now a man. Duncan's birthday barely warranted a mention on the bottom of page 6 of the local newspaper.

What it did mean for him, though, was a change in his studies. Up until now, he had been focused on the basics of his education. Now that he is a man, he is permitted access to the Royal Library, with the books, scrolls and records of the kingdom reserved solely for the crown and his heirs.

As Duncan entered the Library on the upper floor of one of the castle's highest turrets, he did so with mixed feelings. He was excited to enter a part of the castle that had heretofore been off limits to him, but he also dreaded the prospect of a new regimen of studies.

MacTavish, the ancient robed librarian, who has held that position since Duncan's grandfather's time, opened the door to the Library and beckoned Duncan to enter. Not sure what to expect, Duncan was a bit disappointed at the sight. As much as it had been reinforced that he could not be here until he was a man, he expected something pretty monumental -- dangerous weapons, swirling orbs of pulsating, magical energy, or at least a few magazines with pictures of naked babes. Instead, it was ... well... a library.

"This is it?" he asks, disappointed. "What's the big deal about shelves of books? We have that in the reading room on the third floor."

"It's not the books themselves, but what is in them, Your Highness," croaked MacTavish. Even his voice reeked of antiquity. "These volumes hold the greatest secrets of the kingdom. Do not dismiss them as being unimportant, for the enemies of the crown would pay dearly for even a single item from these shelves."

Duncan takes a book at random and looks at the cover. "This is a cookbook, MacTavish. You're telling me someone is willing to kill in order to get their hands on the royal recipe for meatloaf?"

MacTavish takes the book from the Prince's hands and returns it to the shelf. "That is not a cookbook, Sir. It is a spellbook. And in the hands of the inexperienced, it can be deadly. We will work our way up to that one in time."

"Spellbook? I thought magic was off limits to us. The magical folks would never permit us to encroach on their territory and keep the crown. That's part of the deal worked out by my great-great-great grandfather."

"Just because a king does not practice magic does not mean he should not be aware of it. To govern the people of this kingdom, you must understand all of their ways. But you are correct -- practicing magic is off limits to your kind."

"My kind?" asked Duncan. "You mean my family?"

"No, young Prince. I mean your kind as in 'mortal.'"

Duncan looks at MacTavish wide-eyed, as if seeing him for the first time. "Do you mean --?"

"Yes, Your Highness," wheezed the old man. "I am not one of you. I bound myself to the service of the crown over 150 years ago to safeguard the Library on behalf of the Sovereign. I am not nearly as young as you think I am."

Duncan choked back a laugh. If he had to list 100 adjectives to describe MacTavish, "young" wouldnt' have been anywhere among them.

"So what are you, then....? A magical being, of course, but what kind?"

MacTavish waves off the questions with his wrinkled, bony hand. "There will be time enough for that later. For now, we must begin the next phase of your education and training, so you will have the knowledge to be able to rule this land."

Duncan sighs. "What's the point, anyway? Father is in perfect health, and so is Stewart, for that matter. Stewart will find a wife soon and begin producing his own heir and a spare. Does it really make sense for me to waste my time learning all of this crap?"

MacTavish rests his hand on Duncan's shoulder. "If I have learned anything in my many years walking this world, it is this: never assume. You are in the line of succession to the crown, and you must begin each day committed to the possibility that before that day ends, the crown may rest on your brow."

MacTavish guides his charge to a table near a window and hands him an old book with yellowed parchment. "You will begin by reading this volume on the history of the covenants between the mortals and the magical beings. When you have finished, you can read this treatise on diplomacy and negotiation skills. I will return when you have finished to examine you as to what you have learned."

With that, MacTavish departs the Library, leaving Duncan to his task. The Prince looks at the weathered book, then distractedly out the window, and then to the many shelves that fill the room.

What does he do?

Want to support CHYOA?
Disable your Ad Blocker! Thanks :)