14. Chapter 13
Chapter 1 3
Asher
S canning over the pile of letters that have just been delivered to my desk, I prepare myself for what is sure to be an awkward yet fulfilling experience. It is my weekly tradition to read through correspondence from my subjects, one I look forward to each time.
As I break the wax seals and unfold the parchments, a mix of emotions swirls within me—gratitude for their kind words, humility from the effusive praise, and a tinge of embarrassment at some of the more amorous declarations. I appreciate their sentiments but never feel fully worthy of the admiration.
My Sweet Prince Asher,
Will you ever return to Fenton? I’ve missed seeing you as you pass through our small village while riding out to handle the horrible villains. I can help nurse any wounds you may receive. I’ve been training as a healer and would serve you well. How I wish I could see you again......
I skim the intimate letter, cheeks flushing slightly. The young maiden continues on to vividly describe her fervent longing to meet me in person, going into rather explicit detail about what she wished would happen between us. With an awkward chuckle, I neatly refolded the letter. Clearly the fanciful musings of a bored noblewoman.
Another letter catches my eye, this one bearing the seal of a farming village I had recently ordered repairs on their storm-damaged mill:
Your Highness,
I hope this letter finds you well. I wanted to express my gratitude for your help upgrading our mill. I know you faced resistance, yet still pushed ahead because it was right...
I smile as I read the baker's earnest words of thanks, a sense of satisfaction warming me. Providing aid where it is needed, regardless of politics, is its own reward. If I could improve even one life, then the headaches of bureaucracy are worthwhile.
I continue reading, enjoying the glimpses into my people's daily lives, their struggles and small victories. Though many see me as perfect, I am just a man who tries his best, same as any other. Their belief in me is humbling, especially for a spare heir who has been given every opportunity possible for leadership in our kingdom .
Reaching the bottom of the pile, I pause at an unfamiliar letter sealed with dark wax and no sigil. I slide it open, brow furrowing as I scan the cryptic contents:
Prince Asher,
It seems you have secrets that could destroy your sterling reputation should they get out.
Secrets? I straighten in my chair. What is this anonymous accuser implying? I have no shady past to hide. Well, one thing, but there’s no way they could know about it. An ominous opening but meaningless without substance.
I know things about your past that could cause quite the scandal.
My brow furrows, curiosity growing. Scandalous details about my past? Utterly false. My life has been an open book for all. This person clearly presumes too much.
Of course, I would prefer this information remain between us. All I ask is that you obtain your father's enchanted emerald ring from the royal vault and discreetly deliver it to me. Do this small favor, and your secrets remain safe.
I scoff aloud at the audacity. Hand over a priceless royal artifact to avoid unspecified consequences? Preposterous. This is no sinister figure.
Should you refuse me, I cannot guarantee what tales may begin circulating or what evidence may come to light. Surely handing over one ring is preferable to the damage that could ensue?
A hollow threat. Without truth behind their claims, I have nothing to fear from vicious rumors. However, this soul seems in turmoil. Redemption is still possible if nurtured.
Tell no one of this request. Speak of it, and you invite only trouble. Bring me the ring at dusk two days hence, when you take your evening ride by the old oak tree. Place it in the hollow there.
I trust we understand each other. I expect your utmost discretion in this matter, as I will show in kind by keeping your damaging secrets undisclosed, once our bargain is struck. Do what is wise, Your Highness.
L.
P.S. My aim is only to help you avoid an unpleasant scandal. Once I have the ring, you need not trouble yourself further with me. Make the prudent choice, for your family's sake and your kingdom's. I await your delivery.
Clearly this "friend" is grappling and has decided to lash out in desperation.
A knock sounds at the study door. “Enter,” I call out.
Rendfield slips into the room. “Pardon me, Your Highness. I wished to discuss plans for the Willowsbrook festival.”
“Of course,” I reply, gesturing to the chair across from me. “Please, have a seat.”
Rendfield settles into the plush chair, a subtle tension lingering in his posture—echoes of his villainous upbringing.
Though few know, he is born to notorious thieves. With villainy in his blood, his fate seemed sealed until I was tasked to finally capture him. Seeing the potential for change, I faked his death and hired him to be a member of my staff under a new identity . He has proven himself reformed over the years since.
“Renfield,” I begin curiously, “what was it like, growing up destined for villainy?”
He considers the question thoughtfully. “It was all I knew. My parents trained me in the art of theft from the time I could walk and talk. I believed it was my birthright, that society would never accept me as anything else.”
I nod solemnly. “Do you ever wonder what your life may have been, given a chance at an honest path at an earlier point in your life?”
Rendfield shrugs. “Idle speculation makes little difference. I have always made choices aligned with the hand fate dealt me.”
I press gently. “If shown compassion and opportunity earlier, might you have walked differently?”
He hesitates, gazing into the distance. "Perhaps in a kinder world, but resentment feels justified for the scorn shown my kind.”
“It is unjust,” I agree, “to condemn a child for their blood before their character can take shape. ”
Rendfield meets my eyes. “You have been the rare few to recognize value beneath a villainous brand. Not all in power show such wisdom.”
A statement, not condemnation.
“There are still good hearts worth nurturing, if we fight fear with compassion.”
He bows his head graciously in acknowledgment.
“Ah, the festival. What did you need?”
“I needed to know if your appearance would be an overnight stay or if it would be a day trip? If I needed to make accommodations for everyone.”
“Let’s keep it short and leave them wanting more.”
Renfield bows, “As you wish.”
As Rendfield leaves, I consider the blackmail letter. Its author is not irredeemable. There is still conflict within, light wrestling shadow. My hands steady, resolve renewed. My response could plant seeds of hope that a better path exists.
I gather a fresh sheet of parchment and quill, contemplating how to encourage this struggling soul to their better self.
Dear Friend,
I understand you find yourself on difficult paths. The world can be harsh and past shadows painful, twisting us from who we hope to be, but your actions need not be bound by the past. The future remains unwritten .
Your talents could bring great good. There are always second chances for those seeking them. Know that you have potential for kindness and redemption, if you allow yourself to walk in light. Let go of bitterness and look to the good in human hearts, including your own.
I cannot in conscience give you the ring, but know I believe in you, my friend. Your choices define your destiny. May you find purpose and wisdom to guide your way. My door is open if you seek help escaping darkness. For now, take care and turn from anger toward hope.
With Faith in Your Future,
Prince Asher
I fold the letter carefully and drip wax to seal it. Come nightfall, I will leave it at the old oak tree as requested. Jewels I would not provide, but hopefully, some small light will shine through my words and guide this wayward soul to calmer seas.
My station grants authority, but true change comes from within. I can only plant seeds. Whether they bloom into something beautiful or withered untended is up to this conflicted individual.