Comfort is often fleeting. Torn from his home at a young age and forced to live in a far-from-friendly court, Valente is trapped. His honor-bound duty is tested every day by nobles, guards, and even his own self-inflicted doubt. Years of this have turned him away from his noble roots. His building mistrust proves not misplaced as the coronation of a new king throws his life into critical danger. He runs with not only his own life in the balance but with a weight of a kingdom he barely knows on his shoulder. The forced journey he embarks on becomes one of self-empowerment taking him on a path of discovery for a world he had only read about in his royal prison.
Targeted Age Group:: 13+
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
I wanted to learn my writing style and begin the first steps in sharing the stories of my mind. I wanted to express my own story with a twist of creativity. It's one of the only projects I was driven to complete and I hope to share it with others.
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
The characters are based on my experiences and my friends. They come from the heart and I tried to do them justice. I wanted to build them from people that not only inspired me but I admire.
Stone upon stone and wood set by wood. The subtle structures scattered among the grey cobble of the streets like wrinkles on an ageless face. Each structure snug to lively veins of smoothed rock and carved earth. As one, they joined to form the beating heart of the capital. In the center of it all, the thriving point of trade and society perched itself proudly in the middle of the Liosian city. However, today the heart was heavy.
Metallic thuds rang out within the sullen city center. Closed market stalls cowered under the lasting ring. A little man gripped the pillow of fabric upon his head and brought it down to his chest with a yawn. He rubbed his neck coaxing out an exhausted groan. He stepped onto the raised platform amongst the Market’s stalls. The strength of his booming voice tumbled with tiredness.
“The King is dead.”
A man in the crowd clenched his teeth. The gripping twinge pummelled him again. The sensation forced his eyes earthbound towards the compassionless cobblestone. He looked for lost kindness to seep from the cracks. The king’s consideration had sheltered him, the ‘foster prince’, from these courts. The prince kicked the ground hoping the stone would part and reveal his hopes. The cobble refused. He retorted with a sigh. He was never given a choice. Being a glorified stamp on a treaty rarely granted benefits.
The crier eased his grip and cleared the sleep from his throat. Stretching and rubbing his eyes the little man pried another yawn from his body. The crier rose again over the converged crowd of citizens and commoners.
“In our dark time, there must be light…”
The prince’s gut churned at the oncoming words. The crier continued.
“Long live the new King! Long live King Jonathan, Grand King of Lios!”
The mob cheered with invigorated fervor. King Leonin’s passing could be confused for a celebratory day for these people.
Their lurching praise bounced off the stone.
“Long live King Jonathan.”
The prince refused to join their heartless ranks and decided spitting in disgust was a better arrangement. The announcement he dreaded had arrived. His body struggled under the defeating labour. The burden instinctively pulled his eyes beyond the market square. The prince’s gaze stretched past the crier towards the black-grey walls of the castle. It was supposed to be his ‘future.’ It could only be his prison. He let out another heavy sigh and a march to match it. He trudged through the cheering crowds and towards the empty castle gates.
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