It was a bright, beautiful morning in America. Howard Bright, the slim black-haired Floridan with emerald green eyes, walks out of Orbitair Inc. HQ and heads down to the street in his black suit with a blood-red tie. He had ordered a Robo-taxi to pick him up back to his home.
Only waiting after a few minutes, A metallic white car parked near. It opened its suicide doors to allow him to enter. He sits on the vehicle's comfortable white seats and orders the door close. On the dashboard, the taxi asks where he wanted to go.
Howard selects his destination; home. As the vehicle moved, he sits back and relax like always. It had been a long day at work, designing Orbitair's flagship expected to come out in a few years.
As he sits in the car, he thinks of his past. Once a broke young man in the middle of an economic depression called 'The Great Misery', to a draftee forced to join a significant war he didn't want to fight, to end up working alongside the pioneers of the space-manufacturing industry.
His bubble was soon burst by the ringing and vibrations of his phone. He reached into his pocket to find the caller went by the name 'Rebecca'. A co-worker he worked with for a military spacecraft. He answers the call and the two start chatting about work and life.
Once the call was over, he placed it back in his pocket. As he started to relax once more, he hears an annoying honking noise. He turns his head to his left window. There was a car moving unusually fast straight towards him. In a state of panic, he tried to leave but was just a second too late.
A malfunctioning A.I in the other car collided with the one Howard was in. The sirens of the ambulance were heard. Howard was put into the hospital, along with the other passenger from the other car. After days in the hospital, the two came out one way or the other.
One is sitting in a wheelchair with casts over his arms and legs, and the other one is in a coffin.
...
A boy, aged 16 years old, lay on his queen-sized bed snoozing quietly. His messy medium-long hair was platinum blonde, grown to be combed in a certain way. Behind his eyelids were two sharp eyes with jet-black irises.
He was thin, but not frail. He wore a white and blue striped pajama as he slept. His room, painted white had many red curtains and luxurious renaissance furniture. In 3 corners of the walls hung many paintings he drew himself.
The photorealistic paintings depicted modern buildings, vehicles, technologies, and famous world leaders in their attire. He had these weird dreams for a long time. He often liked to portray them on a canvas, as the child was deemed to be a good artist. As the sun rose on the palace, its rays flashed on the boy, waking him up.
ραпdα nᴏνa| сom "Well, now I know," Kant said to himself. sighed. He got off his bed and took his regular morning bath. After it was done, the 16-year-old boy wore his excessive renaissance black suit with golden yellow linings and 12 buttons on it.
Along with the excessive suit, the boy put on his black breeches, that matched the suit, along with a pair of pointy leather boots. He went up to a mirror to look back upon himself. There, in the reflection lay Kant Maybale.
Just then, a knock on the dark oak square patented door could be heard.
"Come in."
Cora, a fair blonde maid, wearing an all-black outfit, entered the room. She carried his morning breakfast of bread, butter, and water on a silver tray. On top of that, there were plenty of vegetables, meat, and fish to go along.
The bread, unlike in his old world, was drier and harder to make last longer. The hot smell of the meat and vegetables, however, had the prince's mouth water. Though there was no spices present, the palace chefs outdid themselves in making Kant's food to the best of their abilities.
She placed it down on his table. He walked over and sat on his chair to eat. He first placed a daisy white napkin on his lap and then grabbed his silverware to dig in his meal. As he was eating, the maid had something to say.
"Prince Kant. I have been given a message for you." said the maid.
"What is it?" he asked in his usual sad tone after swallowing the bread with butter he ate.
"The King's health had been gradually declining because of his fever. He had asked you, as his son, to temporarily take up the throne while he goes away to heal."
The king had been plagued with illness for a while now. At first, it didn't hold him back from ruling his subjects. But as his health gradually declined over the years, he was left increasingly found on his bed than on his throne.
Though the King had other children, they were off to another city learning to master their magic, control their mana, and fully utilize their magic potential at an academy so one of them could rise to the throne.
Kant takes a sip of water from his ceramic white cup and places it down. He thinks about the situation for a minute. The boy was not at the very least confident of his abilities, yet the king offered him his throne, at least temporarily.
"I don't have a choice do I?" he asks the maid.
"I guess not." the maid replied.
"I will accept then."
"Then please inform them as soon as possible. His majesty is currently in his study."
Kant continued with his breakfast. After he finished, he got up from his chair and left the room. He walked across the palace's large long halls lit by the sun's rays through the windows during the day, and torches during the night.
After traversing across the white shining marble floor, he arrived at a square patterned door with a gold door knob.
The elite mage knights protected the door wearing their signature sleeveless daisy white uniform, enchanted steel gauntlet, and chest plate while wielding a spear in their hands. From behind the room, faint sounds of a light argument can be heard from the other side.
"I came to see my father," Kant tells the knights. In response, one of them knocked on the door for Kant. A faint 'Enter' could be heard from the other side.
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