A Worthless Crown

Malcor Vista, my father, was sitting behind his desk, going through papers, his face as cold as ever. He didn't look up when I entered, but I could tell he felt my presence as I leaned against the doorframe.

"You've been wasting your time with those children," he said, his voice low, barely a greeting. "They're distractions. The worst part is you set this whole charade up just to abandon it... What a mess. Your ignorance is astounding for a son of the Vista family."

I rolled my eyes. "They're just trying to impress me," I said, moving further into the room. "A shame none of them could do so. So now I don't care."

He finally looked up at me, his eyes sharp. "You should care. They're trying to gain favor. It's the only way they can get ahead in this city. Think about the capital, the King is ill, an inheritance race will start soon. You should be focused on things like this, things that very well may intervene with your life and the world we live in!"

I snorted. "I don't care about any of that. I'm going to get everything I want, no matter how I treat them."

My father leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing. "That's the problem. You think everything is owed to you. You think this city will succeed thanks to your mere presence."

I frowned, feeling a sharp pang of annoyance. "What are you talking about? As the heir, what is not owed to me. This city runs itself, the workers go and mine and we take in the riches."

Malcor stood up, slowly, his tall figure looming over me. "You were born into this family, Fraero. Into power. Into wealth. And you think you deserve it all just because of your bloodline." He stepped closer causing his body to be draped in shadows, his voice became strife with dissapointment. "But it doesn't work that way. Nothing comes without effort. Without skill. You never met my father, and it shows. Under you, this city wouldn't last a month."

I crossed my arms, a scowl on my face. "Well, It's all mine already. You can call me spoilt for the hundreth time, but I am simply aware of my position. You sure love to act like you work the hardest job in the city."

He was too close now, his eyes full of something I couldn't place. Disappointment, maybe. "That's the problem with you, Fraero. You think the world will just fall into your lap, you view life as a set of not ifs but whens, because I made the mistake of giving you everything. But you're lazy. You're spoiled. And you're talentless. You're a waste of royal blood."

I felt my chest tighten with anger. "I'm not talentless! I'm the heir to the Vista family. What else do you want from me? I'm so young yet I'm expected to do everything you ask of me!"

Malcor's lips curled into a bitter smile. "You think being born into the right family means you can take everything without lifting a finger? You think the world owes you something just because of your name? You'll learn, eventually, that it doesn't work that way. There's a boy your age who's already proven himself, he found the rarest ore in the mines and brought it to me. All at the age of twelve, he has saved this city! And what have you done? Other than annoy me to death!"

I was seething now, my fists clenched. "I will get everything I want. I don't need to prove anything to anyone. Did you really just call me in to scold me? I will wait for the day this city becomes mine, and you will wait with me."

His gaze turned colder still. "You may get what you want, but that doesn't mean you'll ever be worthy of it. And a man not worthy of his throne is quick to lose his head."

"Now that I think about it, didn't you say you gave the boy a visit? Did you notice something about him that you lack?"

"Not really, he was just training in a pointless art. Now if that's all I'd like to take my leave."

"Take your leave, but continue down this path and you will be no son of mine. You will merely be more of a failure than you already are in my eyes. How is your magic training going, are your tuition fees still wasted?"

"My core has developed to the sixth stage, out of nine, dark blue. Although I can still only use dark magic..."

I stood there, silent, as he turned back to his desk, the words hanging in the air between us. My jaw was clenched, but I didn't say anything. I wasn't about to let him keep berating me for free.

"Only the sixth stage... The royal prince is already at the seventh I hear, perhaps you should do something with your life, other than host idle parties of course."

"See, this is why mother is always crying. You always have to be the worst."

After a moment, I turned and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind me. I didn't want to hear any more of his lectures.

As I made my way back to the party, I pushed his words out of my mind. I was Fraero Vista. I didn't need to be worthy. The world owed me everything, and I would bear the greatest responsibility in the future. 

The great oak doors welcomed me as they parted wide, my entrance caused heads to turn and backs to straighten. These people knew there was only one source of light in this city, one way to reach the top.

"Fraero-."

"Fraero, did you hear about-?"

"Fraero."

"Fraero."

"Fraero."

Their voices blend into an emotionless coffin of desperation. There is no real interest for Fraero Vista as a person, a bag of gold would recieve the same treatment.

"I will be leaving now, the party is over." My words snapped a string in the room, everyone quickly flooded out like a horde.

I was left by myself, under the motionless chandeliers, to scavenge through the piles of presents that surrounded me.

A book about magic, I had enough of those. Fine clothing, jewelry, rare b.ooks, and elaborate tableware. These were all things that failed to spark my interest.

Ah. A set of cards. There were seven, I briefly recalled what the owner of the cards had said to me.

"There are seven cards, each has a different fate. You need to shuffle the cards and lay them out, the last card is your fate, or so they say." The gifter's identity was unknown, there were so many people at the party, they were but a blur in my memory.

I shuffled the deck, the back of the cards were all traced with beautiful sigils, as I set the cards out on the floor, I noticed each had a drawing on the other side.

First, a knight. The card read, 'Dying at the hands of your rival.'

Next, a werewolf. The card read, 'Becoming the monster you feared.'

Third, a dragon. The card read, 'Falling at the hands of an ancient peril.'

Fourth, a ring. The card read, 'Meeting death with your lover.'

Fifth, a pair of daggers. The card read, 'Losing your life to a meaningless conflict.'

Sixth, a boat. The card read, 'Lost at sea, never to return.'

Alas, I turned over the last card. Adrenaline had consumed my mind, this was what a present should be. Ingenuitive, novelous, this!

Seventh, a crown. The card read, 'Power but at the greatest cost.'

"Who made these cards?" I spat out, not a single one of them had promised true greatness. Whoever had given them to me must have had some bad intentions.

In this world, cards of fate held real power, it was common in both stories and life for people to be foretold bad fates and to quickly receive swift ends.

I left the room that day with the card in hand. As the doors shut behind me, I imagined all the other presents basking in the darkness.

"Send the other presents down to the servants quarters, this will be their bonus for the month."

The servant before me nodded, before ordering in a dozen more servants to carry out the gifts downstairs.