Chapter 2: Why Me?
"What? Linder Rain? Kidnap him?!"
One of the ministers exclaimed in shock, responding to the bold suggestion made by the Prime Minister.
The suggestion seemed simple at first glance but was shocking in its essence: kidnap one of King Edward's sons to politically pressure him. However, the shock wasn't in the act itself, but in the name put forward. Linder? The least talented among his siblings, the forgotten young man in the corners of the palace, with no position, taken for granted and not taken seriously. The suggestion to kidnap him seemed illogical, without value... pure nonsense.
"Why don't we kidnap Cain?" said King Nork, frowning. "He's the rightful heir, the one who will succeed Edward to the throne. He would be a real bargaining chip."
But the Prime Minister tilted his head slightly, then said calmly, with a faint smile that reflected his confidence: "My liege, I have reliable information from within the palace of Apindor... King Edward loves Linder dearly, a love that is evident even to the servants. Not because he is the strongest, but because he resembles him... he is the weakest among them, the source of emotion in the King's heart."
Everyone in the room fell silent, as if the Prime Minister's words had mingled with the heavy air of the hall. Then, after a period of contemplation, King Nork nodded coldly and ordered a select group of professionals to be dispatched for the mission.
---
The day was drawing to a close, and the noise of the market was slowly fading. Linder stepped out of the tavern with heavy steps, returning to his palace after another aimless day of wandering. He had no work to do, no one to care for him. His world was narrow, but he felt that his escape in those moments might be the only way to survive the crushing emptiness.
Suddenly, an angry voice echoed in the nearby alley: "You scoundrel! How dare you steal my food? I'll cut off your hand!"
Linder stopped in his tracks. He looked toward the source of the voice and saw a large man, a shopkeeper, holding a small child trembling in his grasp, his hand raised to strike.
Linder approached quietly, ready to intervene, his eyes filled with sorrow. Before the man's hand could fall, Linder grabbed it firmly. "Let him go. He's a child, not a criminal."
The man was stunned and suddenly stopped moving. Linder turned to face him, and then recognized him, confusion flickering across the man's face. "Ah... Your Highness! I didn't know he was under your care!"
"I'll pay for what he took," Linder said, pulling out some gold coins from his pocket.
"No, Your Majesty, no need. I wouldn't dare take money from you..."
But Linder tossed the gold coins at him without argument, responding firmly: "Take them, it's not a favor."
The man took the coins, muttering his thanks, and walked away. Linder then turned to the child, who was silently crying.
"Come, I'll take you home."
They walked together in silence until they reached a narrow alley that led to a small house barely standing on its pillars. Linder bent down to the child's level and gently patted his head.
"Stealing is wrong. Don't do it again."
The child answered in a broken voice: "My mom and sister haven't eaten for two days... I just wanted to help them."
Linder took out a small pouch of money and placed it in the child's hand. The child smiled faintly, then ran towards the house. The old wooden door creaked open, and his mother rushed out, embracing him joyfully, tears streaming down her face.
Linder stood at a distance, watching the scene silently. A simple scene... but it struck his heart like a storm.
"Even if the fairest kings sit upon the throne, this life will still carry an unseen, immeasurable, and unpunishable injustice. It's not just laws that are enforced, but fates that quietly seep in, leaving behind suffering that justice can't heal. Why must the poor live in eternal patience, as if suffering is their fate? And why is the rich born as if they know the secret to comfort? Isn't life just eating, drinking, and breathing? So why is all of this so hard?"
"What's the use of being noble, beautiful, talented? We all walk toward the same pit... dead in the guise of the living. We rejoice, we mourn, we love, we betray... but the end is the same. Isn't it strange that man is judged by what doesn't last?"
"But you don't have the power to change your fate. What you have is your response. That's your real battle. Life isn't about fairness... it's a journey. You must live it, as it is. Not as you want it to be."
"That mother who smiled when her child returned with a little money... She wasn't smiling at the money, but at the moment. The happiness of the moment, the joy of the road... that is the real life. Some endings don't change, but between the beginning and the end, there's always something worth living."
Linder turned and walked back the same path to the palace. But he didn't know that that day would be his last there.
---
As he crossed the alley, darkness suddenly descended upon him. He saw nothing. Only a feeling of suffocation, and a hand choking him... then nothing.
---
Linder slowly awoke, his head throbbing with pain. He opened his eyes to find himself in a cramped cell, smelling of iron and mold. A dim flame lit the place. In front of him stood a tall man... the Prime Minister of the Kingdom of Kwandor.
The man smiled coldly. "Welcome, Prince. A dear guest in our kingdom."
Linder understood immediately. He had been kidnapped.
"My father won't leave me here... he'll come for me."
"We'll see," said the minister, turning his back and leaving, leaving Linder in his cell, wrestling with a single thought:
"Why me?"
His siblings were more important, more talented, more influential... so why him?
But the answer didn't come.
---
King of Kwandor sent a threatening letter to King Edward, demanding harsh terms, including control over a vital trade route, and the signing of a peace treaty that would force Apindor not to retaliate.
Edward initially refused, then hesitated: To save his son... or protect his kingdom from a historic humiliation?
The High Court, with its binding judgments, was watching for any breach, and with it the possibility of a full-scale war involving all the kingdoms.
And war indeed ignited.
After the battles began, Linder was moved to a secret prison in the forests of Kwandor. Two years passed.
Two years of torment, isolation, failed escape attempts, and an undying determination.
Linder was now eighteen. His black hair had grown long, and his voice had deepened. But inside... he was changing.
And one day, in another escape attempt, he ran desperately through the forest. But the earth betrayed him.
He suddenly fell into a deep hole, a dark entrance leading to a narrow passage, with a strange smell filling the air.
He moved slowly... then saw the gate.
It was ancient, etched with letters, covered in the dust of centuries. He read what was written: "The Trial."
His heart stopped for a moment. Here... something different begins.